Vanity

Sofia looked around the room, a bit irritated that the god had left so suddenly without even telling her his name. He hadn't even finished briefing her on her situation before he so swiftly f****d off. Well, there was no use complaining now. He was gone, and she was on her own. Time to man up. Dwelling on what she didn't know was a surefire way to drive herself mad before she even started her new life. Even if her information was sorely lacking, it wasn't like she couldn't work with what she did know.

Her name was Magnolia. She'd have to get used to people calling her that unless she wanted to offend somebody. Nobles here were probably snooby and prideful, and that was a chance she wasn't willing to take.

She was seventeen... again. The worst age to be—expectations and emotions all plotting for her downfall. She had barely escaped it before her gruesome death at eighteen, and now she found herself in its wicked clutches again. She couldn't decide what was worse: being seventeen or being expected to get married at seventeen.

Apparently, her debut was in a week. A little panic crept into her stomach. So little time to adjust. And what the hell even was a debut?

She took a breath. Now that she thought about it, she had heard of it in a show she watched once... How did it go again? A bunch of girls getting judged by the queen, who shook her head at them if they weren't flawless? 'No thanks.' It wasn't something she was looking forward to being a part of. She wasn't even sure if that's what would happen. The tradition was probably dramatized for television. This one would probably be tame... hopefully.

The good thing was, her debut being in a week meant she wasn't formally introduced to society yet. Her introduction to society would also be her introduction to the marriage market, so for the week before her debut, she only had to worry about adjusting to her family. At least she didn't have to deal with society yet.

She noted the little information she had: Magnolia, seventeen years of age, and about to debut in a week. Definitely not a recipe for disaster. And then there was the little fact she had almost forgotten—the original Magnolia was poisoned to death. So she also had to worry about that.

She groaned. At least she had a week to prepare before the debut. There were probably a bunch of things she needed to do to get ready, but first things first—

She mused at how fancy her room was, a smirk creeping onto her face as she took in the luxury. High ceilings with... hanging chandeliers?

"Wow." Leaving the mask on her pillow, she hopped off the bed, staring up at the chandelier. It cast a soft golden glow over the room. For whatever reason, she was awestruck by it. Sure, she had met a god and was now in a body that wasn't hers. As far as she knew, magic existed in this world, and she had a creepy mask that would apparently grant her power. But the chandelier seemed to be the most magical, mystical thing she had ever seen. Mostly because, to her, this meant Magnolia was loaded.

Peeling her eyes away, she checked out the rest of her room. The walls were covered in intricately patterned wallpaper featuring flowers. She scoffed when she realized the flowers depicted were magnolias in bloom. 'What type of narcissistic—' Ivory petals with deep green leaves woven into an elaborate, gilded pattern. The soft muted background allowed the flowers to stand out, arranged in a way that framed the tall arched windows dressed in heavy velvet drapes. Tassel-tied cords held them open, letting natural light stream in.

At the center of the room was, of course, the bed she had woken up in. It was big—the biggest she had ever seen.

A fancy four-poster bed with a carved wooden frame painted in ivory. Dressed in layers of silk and lace that were now a mess, either because she had just woken up or because she had been convulsing in pain a moment ago. Who knew? The tengu mask sat menacingly on the embroidered pillows. Laying eyes on it, she felt a draw to it—a pull that was probably just in her head. Shaking off the feeling, she realized she didn't have a place to hide that creepy thing.

Walking over to her bed, she picked up the mask. The cool, smooth carved surface of it sent a chill down her spine. It smelled of damp earth and wet wood—a distinct, earthy scent. Rain falling on dry soil. She didn't know if this was just her imagination, but it almost felt like there was a slight pulse, a humming energy at her fingertips. It made her think it was alive, breathing.

"The mask will speak to you," he had said. "It will tempt and taunt you. Do not listen to its whispers."

She chuckled to herself at the thought. No way in hell was she going to try and use its full power, so the whispers could shove their temptations right where the sun didn't shine. 'No stupid thing will possess me.' She smirked. 'Now, where to hide it?'

Glancing around her room again, a carved armoire caught her eye. Looked like a good place to hide something. Sauntering over, she pulled its polished doors open—and her heart skipped a beat. Inside, a collection of dazzlingly fine gowns and accessories stared back at her. All of these were... hers.

Snapping herself out of it, she sighed, the mask weighing in her hand. 'I can't hide this creepy thing here.' Her reasoning, however foolish, was that the mask's vibes would mess with this darling collection.

To the side was a door. It wasn't the exit; that was the bigger door on the opposite wall. So what was this one for? Tiptoeing over—for no reason at all—she carefully opened it and peeked inside. She forgot to breathe.

A deep, claw-footed bathtub stood beneath a small stained-glass window, casting colored light over the white marble tiles. Immediately, she began to daydream. Late-night bubble baths and wine. What a blessing death was. A brass towel rack held thick, embroidered linens, and an elegant wash basin and pitcher sat nearby. The scent of scented oils and soap wafted in her direction. She clutched the mask as if clutching her pearls and quickly closed the door before the luxury killed her.

Resting her back against the door, she held the mask to her chest and finally caught her breath. Across the room, she spotted a vanity table. She let out a giggle, sensing there was more to discover, and skipped over, snickering to herself.

The vanity was ornate, delicate carvings framing a large elegant mirror. She froze, catching a glimpse of her new appearance in the reflection. A single word left her lips.

"Wow."

Placing the mask atop the vanity, she leaned closer to get a better look. No longer was she the blue-eyed blonde—the appearance the god had chosen to wear. Now, large brown eyes that matched her dark brown hair stared back at her. A button nose. Rosy lips, naturally plump. The delicate features of a noble lady stared back at her.

Standing straight, she examined her reflection. She looked over her body, dressed in a silk nightgown. Then she cupped her breasts with a measured grip... and then turned her back to the mirror, checking out her ass-ets.

"Damn you, Magnolia," she sighed in disappointment. 'Can't have it all, I guess.' She plopped down on the stool. "At Least now my posture will be better."

Focusing back on what was important, she opened the top drawers of the vanity. Inside, she found hairpins, delicate perfume bottles, and—"oh my, gloves?!" Yes, gloves. Feeling rather fancy, she sifted through them before moving on to the larger side drawers. Brushes, formal-looking letters she had zero interest in reading, and… pressed flowers? "Ugh."

With a shrug, she moved on to the final drawer—the one in the center. As soon as she pulled it open, her breath caught. Nestled inside, snug against the wood, was a jewelry box. A stunning one. It gleamed with intricate carvings, its brass fittings polished to perfection. When she lifted the lid, her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

Jewels. Rings. Necklaces. More riches than she had ever seen in her entire life. She reached out, just to brush her fingers against the shimmering gems, but something stopped her.

A gut feeling.

Tilting her head, she frowned. The jewelry box fit perfectly, but… too perfectly. Like it was meant to take up all the space in the drawer, making it seem completely full. But when she looked closer, the depth of the drawer didn't quite match the height of the box.

Her curiosity burned. Her nosiness winning over.

Biting her lip, her nimble fingers carefully lifted the jewelry box out, like she'd done it a thousand times, setting it on the vanity beside the tengu mask. And there it was. A hidden compartment.

Her fingers hesitated before reaching inside, brushing against something smooth. Leather. A book.

A diary.

Her hands trembled as she pulled it out. The cover was worn, but well cared for, the leather soft beneath her fingertips. Magnolia's diary.

For a long moment, she simply stared at it, weighing the weight of what was in her hands. Then, swallowing hard, she slowly flipped it open.

Her eyes scanned the first sentence on the first page.

And she read.